He lived for himself and lived, did not bother anyone: he loved girls, often lied, often used charm, played cards and occupied one of the posts at the lower level of the endless labor hierarchy. Not a model of decency, but quite a good person. And then a beauty stands in front of me and declares that I am the heir to the throne in some other world. It would be nice to have some kind of normal throne, otherwise they are the personifications of evil forces. And I am obliged to sit on him as the best contender for the role of the fiend of hell. No, I’m certainly not a paragon of decency, but this...